


Fatigue

by VerySincerelyYours



Series: Blackout [3]
Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: And coffee, But the angsty kind, Cuddling and Snuggling, Fluff, He also really likes Christmas, Idiots in Love, Jason isn't as much of a jerk as he could have been, M/M, Mental Rambles, Neither is Ian, Ruben works too hard, Sleepiness, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerySincerelyYours/pseuds/VerySincerelyYours
Summary: The missing scene between Ruben's immense sleep deprivation, and him finding himself in a bed. Specifically, in Jason's bed.Yeah. Ruben isn't exactly sure how it happened either.





	Fatigue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imadeyouapancake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadeyouapancake/gifts).



> Here we have it! The last in my little self-indulgent trilogy. I have exams fast approaching, and probably won't be writing for a bit, but after that I'll be back, adding things here and there.
> 
> This in particular is canon divergent from about 105m 48sec in the supercut, and does have some sneaky references to the previous works, so be sure to check those out if you haven't already.

Ruben couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten from inside, angry, irritated at each other, to here - half way to what Jason said would be a bed, which Ruben apparently needed. Except, no. He didn’t need a bed. He needed his lab. He needed to solve the problem he’d been working on for five years now, for _Jason_. He needed to… to do things. Important things. Jason was just doing what he always did and disregarding Ruben’s advice.

The world was noisy and loud, full of car engines and horns and late night traffic, but Jason was a safety net, an anchor, a warm and comforting presence. Ruben didn’t think they’d ever been this close to each other before, at least not for such a long time. It was… nice. More than nice. Ruben was sure he was going to miss it, once it was inevitably over. Even if he didn’t really know why it was happening.

It was a blur. Everything was blurry. Everything was sore. His muscles ached deeply, and Ruben couldn’t help but grimace every now and then, between frustrated grumbles and vague questioning sounds aimed at the man beside him.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, grip on his elbow tightening so marginally that Ruben, in his altered state, didn’t even notice it like he would have otherwise, the impenetrable daze of the past week preventing the usual butterflies and adrenaline rush that accompanied Jason touching him- well, anywhere. There was just more tugging, towards that place he couldn’t remember, but that must have been important, because Jason had said that they needed to go there. More work, probably, because they were close and Jason needed to be normal and it was all he had and Ruben couldn’t take that away from him.

Jason wouldn’t want him to waste time. No food, no sleep. Work.

“Ruben- hey, Ruben.” Jason’s voice, though - and it _was_ his, because Ruben didn’t ever think he’d be able to forget what that sounded like - was softer; strangely. More gentle, maybe? But that was weird. Ruben had heard it before, but only ever directed at young children, Jason’s patients, to try to settle them non-abrasively. Jason never talked like that to Ruben. With Ruben, it was always sharp and pointed. Compliments had to be hard earned, and every other ounce of kindness just dug the hooks deeper into his heart - made it hurt more when he was tugged along by the taught threads and burning puncture wounds.

But Jason’s voice. It was important. …Ruben couldn’t remember why it was important.

“Still with me? C’mon. Soon we’ll be back at my place, you’ll be in bed, there’s still plenty of time.”

There wasn’t plenty of time. Jason, at least, is still being Jason, and ignoring reason, ignoring common sense. ‘Time’, for Ruben, was a mess of bitter coffee and harsh sounding voices and _compound failed_ after _compound failed_ after _failed failed failed faliled failed failed-_

“ _Ruben_!” Jason is shaking him. Rude. He’s trying to identify the correct formula of the compound he’s making - _for Jason_. …or Ian. Whatever. He doesn’t want to think about it, to be perfectly honest. Killing either of them feels like it’ll end up ruining at least eighty percent of Ruben’s life, if not the full hundred. He’s a scientist, though, with a constantly questioning and moving mind, so the compound just refuses to leave him be, even when the dopamine and epinephrine molecules in his mind’s eye look stupidly similar, and they _both_ just look like caffeine molecules, and the caffeine molecule was wearing a Christmas hat and maybe _that’s_ what they all need, a little bit of festive spirit, some joy to cure the soul and get everyone to-

“RUBEN!”

Jason. Shit, Jason was trying to talk to him. He hadn’t finished the compound and Jason was angry and - no, Ian was angry - everyone was angry and it was at him because he hadn’t finished the compound he couldn’t even get this right -

“Ruben- _Ruben,_ stay with me, okay? Keep on your feet at least until we get home.”

Jason sounded… pleading. That wasn’t right. This must be a systematic error. All the data coming through was skewed. “Home? Lab - was finishing the… ‘s close, Jason, just runnin’ tests, gotta check for stim’lus discrim’nation with the ‘mitters…”

Had he collected enough individual cell samples to properly compare the compounds effects on Ian and Jason individually and not just together because even if it was the one body it was two very different people and Ruben just wanted them to both be happy was that really too much to ask - everyone being happy. Including Ruben himself. Who at this point, would very much like to be led back to the lab where he could curl up on his spinney chair, surrounded by his precious babies - vials and equipment and glass cases of endless compounds - and not be crushed by the endless waves of disappointment. And not have to kill anyone. He’d _really_ like to not have to kill anyone.

But this wasn’t the lab. They were _en route_ to somewhere else and Jason was taking him so Ruben supposed it wasn’t a _bad_ direction to be going in… probably.

“Just…” Was Jason sighing? Ruben was usually the one who sighed. This wasn’t right. “Forget the lab. Just for a bit. The software’s still running, still testing variations of the compound, so you’re not needed there for a few hours.”

Okay.

Who was this guy and where was Jason.

After what must have been twenty seconds of very slow, very simplistic cognitive function, Ruben was finally able to stutter out a series of “wha-?”s and “b-but…”s that were shushed in the usual Jason manner (which was a small relief, because he really didn’t think he could deal with Ian right about now). He figured, belatedly that Jason was right about the equipment in the lab. It was still running. His phone would probably ping when something lit up green - or he could ask Connie to keep her eye on it through the office window and text him. Effort was required, but to be perfectly fair, Ruben didn’t expect any green on that computer screen any time soon. Just red, red, and more red - only fifty percent of Christmas. Disappointing.

So the lab was still running. Jason was content. Awesome. Now Ruben just needed to figure out what _he_ could do in the meantime to keep this project moving forward.

Caffeine? Caffeine. More caffeine was always good at improving his efficiency and working capacity. So… where to get caffeine? Was Jason still talking?

“-p is important, and you haven’t been getting enough. And food- when was the last time you ate something?”

Oh, oh, he knew the answer to this one-

“Coffee is not food, Ruben.”

Well, shit. He’d actually been excited for a second. Which - what was even with that? His neurons were misfiring or something, such affective responses, perhaps he was emotionally compromised? Coffee is a beverage not a food but _technically_ it is sustenance maybe more like a drug but he was good at drugs those were simple yet complex but at least they made more sense than Jason did, Jason made his brain fire so many neurons that Ruben thought he could be perpetually high and never have to come down until he overdosed on Jason.

Or- whatever.

Food. Food was the thing - the question, remember? - but his mind was coming up blank, and Jason was looking at him with those disapproving eyes that made Ruben want to cower into a corner, not puff his chest out and try to get the upper hand like usual. He would have cowered, but Jason was pressed close to him - wait what?! - and keeping him upright, Ruben was pretty sure. He wasn’t quite sure when that had happened, but was suddenly thankful for the proximity, because now that he was aware that he was putting one foot in front of the other, the task suddenly felt immensely difficult. _Left. Left. Left right left._

That, and the late hour had brought with it darkness and an evening chill, and Jason was a startlingly warm contrast to Ruben’s slightly smaller, _much_ colder frame.

_Warm like Ian_ \- his mind traitorously added, and Ruben had enough sense to quash the thought before some of it rolled off his tongue by accident and made everything infinitely worse. Thankfully, Jason seemed to be too preoccupied to notice him. Just like always. “Almost there now…”

Ruben did his very best to keep up with the proceedings. “Almost _where_ now?”

Jason laughed - more like a chuckle, really, barely there and ringing with things Ruben couldn’t identify (he doesn’t have the capacity for qualitative analysis) - but it was enough, _more_ than enough, for his heart to skip a beat and his feet to skip a step and he could feel it in Jason’s chest, pressed next to his. Maybe it was only his rather good imagination, but he would rather think it wasn’t. He needed more of that sound. More data. How could he commit it to his memory without more data?

“Woah- careful, Ruben… alright, in we go…” Jason needed to tighten the arm around Ruben’s shoulders somewhat as he leant forward to unlock the door with his now free hand, and Ruben wasn’t complaining, not even a little. He could be patient. Particularly since time already felt like the jam in a donut that he really, _really_ wanted to shove in his face.

The ascent of four or five stairs left Ruben’s head spinning, to the point where Jason seemed to be next to him but also in front and behind and all over the place, and Ruben felt borderline nauseous as he tried to get back with the program. He only really succeeded in slumping more against Jason and moaning softly, flexing his fingers around the section of Jason’s jacket he only just realised he was holding tightly in one hand.

Huh.

“How are you going, Ruben?”

_He’s got really pretty eyes._

“C’mon, talk to me.”

Marching orders. Right. Ruben ran his tongue over his teeth, tasted remnants of bitter coffee from the past few days, and did his very best to register their current surroundings despite how blurry everything was. There was a layer of fuzz everywhere, like some particularly irritating fungus, and it was making Ruben’s head pound just above his eyebrows.

“I’m… goin’?” Inaccurate. Jason is going. Ruben is just holding on and hoping to make it until the end without falling on his face. “Think? Head hurts.”

Ruben tried to blame the worry he saw in Jason’s eyes on his impaired vision. He tried. He tried really, _really_ hard.

Jason shut the door behind them, and started to slowly lead Ruben towards his bedroom. “That’d be the fatigue. I’ve got aspirin, but I’d rather you just sleep it off, and then actually _eat_ when you wake up.”

Ruben watches with bleary eyes as Jason tugs back the bed cover, the room still shrouded in darkness. He tries to work out why this is happening, tries to stamp on irrational excitement, and lets himself go pliable as Jason sits him down and pries apart his eyes to check his pupils. Ruben isn’t sure what for, but he isn’t _that_ kind of doctor anyway, so he figures he should just sit still and try to stop blinking, because he seems to be doing that a lot. His eyelids are drooping and he might be swaying from side to side - the world is spinning so much that it’s almost impossible to tell.

Jason reaches up and covers both of Ruben’s eyes with one hand, leaving him to tense and swallow thickly as the smell of worn-off cologne, sweat and antibacterial spray made his head even lighter than it was before. Suddenly, a yellow light peaks between Jason’s fingers, slightly too bright for Ruben’s sensitive eyes. He waits a few long moments, and then the hand is being peeled away, and Ruben’s eyes slowly adjust to the bedside lamp Jason had turned on. He blinks, but not because of the brightness, or the sleepiness this time. Jason was just… he just…

He looked uncomfortable, under Ruben’s dazed scrutiny. Ruben desperately tried not to look at Jason’s mouth.

“Ahh… e-hem. Jacket off.” Jason’s hands moved from Ruben’s collar, down to pop open each button with practiced ease, whereas Ruben scrambled to help and had hardly gotten his fumbling fingers around the second button from the bottom before Jason was there, taking over gently, before working to slide the fabric off Ruben’s shoulders and down each arm in turn. “There, much better. Are you- uhh. This’ll be comfortable enough. Right? Right.”

Ruben wanted to tell him that he was even colder now, but his mouth wouldn’t shape around the words. He kinda just, looked down at himself, then back at Jason, thinking that the t-shirt would be fine, but the jeans would be uncomfortable as all hell in an hour or two. He didn’t think he could handle Jason helping him take off his jeans.

He hummed something vaguely affirmative.

There was another one of those little chuckles from Jason again, accompanied by a small smile that made life worth living, and then Jason was arranging the pillows and tugging the blanket back further so that he could help Ruben get _properly_ into bed. “What are you thinking about, anyway?”

This is Jason’s next puzzle for Ruben, who doesn’t really think himself capable of mulling over something so complex in this state. He doesn’t really want to say what’s running through his mind, because he’s sure that fully conscious Ruben would kick him if even a fraction of that stuff made it to Jason’s ears, but the alternative is admitting that shaping his mouth around words just takes far too much effort, and Ruben doesn’t think that either option sounds particularly enticing.

So he just hums, and he mumbles, and Jason’s hand is hot and heavy at the back of his neck as he helps Ruben lie down on the pillows, and if Ruben’s breath catches a little then neither of them think to mention it. It slips away, though, from under his head, and Ruben tilts his cheek in that direction in an effort to make it last a few more seconds. Now that there is a pillow underneath his tired and overworked mind, though, thinking is suddenly not the priority. Jason’s hands, tucking the blanket around his prone form, are the priority.

They linger on Ruben’s side, to smooth out a crease, and Ruben blinks up at the fuzzy image in front of him. He likes Jason. Jason can be nice to him. Ian can be nice to him too - Ruben still has the scar to prove it.

But right now, Jason is being nice, and Ruben doesn’t mind that it’s chilly and his jeans are uncomfortable and that there’s fuzz everywhere and that his head pounds. He doesn’t even really have a chance to open his mouth and say anything before everything is lost in welcome oblivion, and Jason’s hand on his side makes him think _blackout_ one last time before he sleeps.

***

Ruben was out… sooner than Jason had expected. Like a light, really. Though to be fair, the man had been mostly out of it since Jason had found him, zoned out and exhausted in the lab, looking for all the world like he’d been run over by a bus on the way there. Being a neurosurgeon, Jason knew something as simple as the signs and symptoms of fatigue like the back of his hand. He had seen Ruben exhibit more than one on a near daily basis for the past five years, but never… never _this many._ Never all at once.

He didn’t particularly want to feel guilty for every other time he’d noticed and simply ignored the signs in favour of pushing Ruben to work harder, but he couldn’t help it. Not when _this_ time, Ruben could barely walk on his own, seemed to be losing fragments of time and memory. He mumbled to himself, and slurred broken phrases at Jason, and clung to Jason’s jacket the entire walk home, weak fingers hanging on to the fabric as though it were some kind of heavenly tether to the earth. Ruben was soft and pliant like a trusting animal.

Jason didn’t know how far was too far. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage (because he realised, now, that taking advantage was practically all he was good at), especially with Ruben in this… this fragile state. So sleep deprived he was just a shell of himself.

Jason’s heart _ached,_ painfully, with every stumbled step of Ruben’s, every soft noise and pointed realisation. He couldn’t ignore it, as badly as he wanted to. Just like he couldn’t ignore Ruben this time, couldn’t do anything other than get him someplace safe and take care of him. It was, after all, what Ruben had been doing for _him_ these past five years. Even so, there was too much self-doubt and self-loathing to handle at the one time, not when Ruben needed to be his first priority. It didn’t matter that the clock was ticking closer and closer to eight twenty five. It should matter, but Jason had always been bad at thinking things through from beginning to end.

So he’d put Ruben in bed, fidgeting under the force of that sleepy, adoring gaze, trying to keep himself under control despite the music Ruben was playing by tugging on Jason’s heartstrings. He wanted to touch him more, he realised, but he couldn’t. Not after he’d spent so long being such an ass, and especially not _now,_ when Ruben was out of his own mind.

But Jason was selfish. He’d let his hand linger on Ruben’s neck, and later on his side. Ruben had fallen asleep just like that, and Jason had watched, aching, as the light illuminated the black smudges under the fan of Ruben’s dark eyelashes. He was selfish enough to swallow thickly and then sit by Ruben’s side, watching his own hand rest on the lowest of Ruben’s ribs, fingers slotting between each one, because he could feel the soft intercostal muscles between.

If only he could stay here, stand vigil like Ruben had for him so many long hours before. Ruben had never admitted it, but Jason had noticed - and done nothing with the information - multiple times. Keeping him safe. He wanted nothing more than to stay here until the sun rose, to make sure Ruben ate and then slept more. To sit closer to him than he should. To press his lips where they didn’t deserve to be pressed. Jason didn’t know how to be better than he was, or how to deal with these feelings to begin with, but he thought that Ruben, maybe… if Ruben felt the same…

He was fairly sure that Ruben felt the same. More than fairly sure, if the way Ruben had looked at him tonight was any indication. It just made the guilt flare even worse than before. But at least, in the very least, they’d been working to keep Ruben safe from him, from _Ian_. Even if Ruben cared about him, he couldn’t care for Ian. Ian- _Jason-_ …they’d both hurt him far too much.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was checking the fridge for food for when Ruben woke, and then sending himself away somewhere until tomorrow, when he’d come right back to ensure that Ruben was still okay.

With another thick swallow, and tormented eyes, Jason let his hand slide up Ruben’s side and over his shoulder, ghosting his fingers over the man’s cheek without touching. Was he allowed to? Ruben’s permission, his wants and his needs, were suddenly overwhelmingly important, like they should have always been. With a sigh, Jason presses his palm to the pillow beside Ruben’s head instead, leaning on his arm as he arched just enough to kiss Ruben’s exposed temple. Soft, just for a moment, though he lingered. He couldn’t help but linger.

For so long, he hadn’t known what he wanted. Now it was time to earn it. Except…

Ian _._

Jason felt his sudden presence like an uncomfortable twist in his gut, only this time, it was overwhelmed by sheer panic. He jumped back from Ruben like the kiss had burnt him, battling the need to run with the need to make no noise, so that Ruben could stay asleep, and blissfully unaware. Jason would rather die than see him so afraid again, with that stutter and the persistent trembling of his entire frame. No, Ruben didn’t need to be scared. Jason needed to get Ian away from him. To keep him safe, for the next twelve hours.

There was no time.

He turned, staggered, reached for the bedroom lamp, but just as it clicked off, his muscles jerked and spasmed, and he lost the fight against Ian’s invading consciousness. All at once, the mess of thoughts in Jason’s head - _Ruben Ruben Ruben Ruben Ruben Ruben_ \- was silenced, and his eyes blackened before returning to their regular, crystal blue.

Ian squared his shoulders, breathing through the lingering pains and flare of adrenaline, before blinking through the darkness of the room he was in. It was eight twenty five, presumably. There was no clock. But his hand… it was curled around something tall and narrow, and with a twitch of his finger, the space around Ian was illuminated.

Bedroom. Not a holding cell. He couldn’t tell if this was a pleasant surprise or predictably Jason, screwing everything up again. Well, it was his loss, not Ian’s. Ian had expected to be at the hospital, where Jason usually was; down in the lab where he could find the little lab rat and…

A slow turn revealed an even greater surprise, tucked in under the covers with what Ian surmised to be _care._ Ruben, sleeping, looking for all the world like he needed nothing less than a good week of shut-eye. Ian tended to leave the actual doctoring up to his mind-numbing counterpart, but he seemed to be making a lot of exceptions, for Ruben. But Jason… didn’t seem to have had the guts to stay tonight. He would have left, no doubt, out of some sense of pathetic, moralistic pride. As if he’d even cared about morals before now? No, Ian knew Jason better than anyone did. He was the only one whose vision wasn’t impaired by love and affection. Not only didn’t he deserve this, but when it was given to him, he was too chicken to take it.

Ian thought to wake Ruben up, but dismissed it rather quickly. Their game of cat and mouse grew tiring when Ruben always got so frightened. Not that Ian didn’t love it, seeing the fear in his eyes, the cute bumbling and shaking, but it was no doubt what Jason would expect him to do, and Ian absolutely loathed being predictable. That, and unlike Jason, he knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he wasn’t a coward. He didn’t ever plan to be one, when it came to taking what he wanted.

Taking slow, deliberate paces around to the other side of the bed, Ian tugged back the covers, grinning with satisfaction when Ruben stirred just enough to grumble and curl up in his sleep as the cold found its way in. Ian didn’t hesitate, though, not like Jason would, and had. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped down onto the mattress, closing the covers back over himself and scooting closer to the other warm body in the bed.

It was cute, really, how quickly Ruben warmed up to him, as if instinctively attracted to the heat and the comfort. Ian wasn’t sure he’d ever cared much for touching people beyond sex, but he did very much enjoy taking and playing with other people’s toys. Not to mention that Ruben seemed to be an enigma - an exception, for both Jason and him, in so many ways. Ian might have liked to chalk it down to drugs and chemicals he didn’t understand, just out of spite, but he’d been aware of it for long enough, now, that fighting the feelings just seemed increasingly stupid.

That, and Ian had never been particularly good at _not_ taking what he wanted.

Reaching over Ruben with one outstretched arm, Ian flicked off the lamp. When he settled again, it’s to the feeling of Ruben curled right up against him, fingers loosely tangled in the material of his shirt, head tucked his under Ian’s chin. Ian curled his own arm possessively around Ruben’s back, traced patterns on his bare neck, and wondered what Jason would make of this at eight twenty five tomorrow morning.


End file.
